


All I'm Looking For

by deathbychai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbychai/pseuds/deathbychai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a part of Castiel that he can't help. There is always a desire to protect Dean that extends beyond the fact that the human is in his care. Dean is so dear to Castiel in a way that their bond is more profound than the physical and the spiritual. This need rises to a level that Castiel has never felt before, and he is unable to put this feeling into words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I'm Looking For

There's a part of Castiel that he can't help. There is always a desire to protect Dean that extends beyond the fact that the human is in his care. Dean is so dear to Castiel in a way that their bond is more profound than the physical and the spiritual. This need rises to a level that Castiel has never felt before, and he is unable to put this feeling into words.

So he settles for gesture instead. When Dean is rubbing his hand tiredly at his eyes, bleary from research that Sam has forced him to do, Castiel wings out to bring him a coffee and leaves it on the table. After a long fight, Castiel taps into powers to gently chip away at the physical sore and hurt in Dean's body. Subtly so that Dean's pain melts away a little faster than usual but not so accelerated that Dean would notice the gesture. 

Even in the lofty heights of Heaven, he can feel the tugging at his Grace when Dean is troubled. Before Castiel even realizes it himself, he is walking through Dean's nightmares. More often then not, they feature him in Hell under Alistair's tutelage. But instead of faceless souls, they are the ones that he loves such that Dean is wrenched by the prospect of them in Hell as well as their faces as they twist in agony. Dean is so far gone in these nightmares that there is not much Castiel can do. He has tried taking away the implements of destruction, whisking him and Dean away to a more innocent place, but the result has always been the same. He has to watch as Dean curls in upon himself, piles self-loathing at the terrible form that he believes himself to be.

So instead, now Castiel passes through Dean's nightmares invisibly. Instead choosing to gently soothe the chaos in his heart. Reminding him that we are all lost souls here in Hell, and that the blame is not his own to bear. He whispers with some trepidation into Dean's ear. He tells him to not forget what he did in Hell. Castiel reminds Dean that for thirty terrible years of torture he resisted Alistair. That his soul burns with a beautiful brightness that is not and could never be tarnished. That it harkens and gladdens his Grace, his very essence, to be in the presence of the hunter. That his time spent in Hell does not have to be just a reflection of his weakness. He whispers in words, both English and Enochian, invoking an unwritten incantation of his wish for Dean to be at peace with himself. And when he sees that Dean tosses less fitfully, he can't help reaching forward, echoing a very human gesture that he has seen Sam and Dean perform, and brushing a soft hand through his hair.

He is not quite sure when it happens. Of course, he is conscious of the precise moment that their first kiss happens. His angelic Grace is aware of the squirrels clambering in the tree outside of the motel room door. Of Sammy's heavy steps as he walks towards the dusty Impala parked outside to grab supplies from the trunk. He feels the presence of his brothers in Heaven as he always does, a fainter and fainter nudging at the back of his mind.

But this call pales like the moon wanes in the face of the Sun to the pounding he can feel in his vessel's heart speeding up in response to the soft cup of his face by Dean's hand made gentle with affection. He feels the spark deep in his Grace but realizes that it is only part of a roaring fire that has burning for quite some time. He loses himself in the fact that kissing Dean feels strangely familiar, akin to coming home to a home he never knew that he had. His Grace swells with love, and he has to fight to keep his true self from flickering at the edges. And this is what he is not sure of: when he moved from a detached concern to feeling protective to this crushing love that threatens to break down all the walls he has and sweep him off into the soft eddies of its pull.

When Dean breaks away with a gasp for air, he still leans his forehead against Castiel's and says with a soft smile, "Well damn. If I had known that you were that good at kissing, I wouldn't have waited that long."

And Castiel does not know what to say in response because to him, it seems like his Grace had been waiting for millennia for this creature of infinite grace. So he settles for staring into eyes of green. Eyes that he has seen full of sorrow and hurt, but it is as they were children again. The gaze he meets seems full of delight and unthinking joy. The thought that he was able to bring this small measure of comfort sets something madly fluttering, and the heavy waters in his heart run clear as he surrenders to the tug of his heart and captures Dean's lips again.

They maneuver unthinkingly to the bed, falling with a gentle thud onto scratchy sheets that Castiel spares only the slightest thought for. They press themselves against one another, desperate for touch as if striving to lock their bodies together as lovers in the myths of yore. Their kisses travel languidly and wondrously as they slowly peel layers of clothing off. Dean ghosts his lips down the arch of Castiel's neck to trip gentle kisses along his clavicle. He swirls his tongue in the gentle notch at the base as he sweeps his hand to rest over where Castiel's heart beats madly. 

Dean seems gratified by the sounds that Castiel makes as he slowly undoes the buttons on Castiel's shirt with his talented mouth. Castiel feels his hands surge upward to brush over Dean's head with such urgency that it seems like a facsimile of the same gesture evoked so many times by Dean's nightmares.

When Dean leans into his touch and closes his eyes, Castiel could not have predicted the words that trip from his hunter's mouth. "Oh Cas," he says huskily, "I could always feel the warmth of your presence when I woke even though you were already gone. I just didn't want to bring it because it's so damn embarrassing, but lord, that's probably when I realized."

The moment of candor is so unexpected that it engulfs Castiel with a desire so white-hot that he is helpless in its grasp. He flips them over, bites down hard at Dean's neck, and then mouths gently over the mark as if in apology. Hands made clumsy by sentiment, Castiel tries to tug Dean's shirt over his head. He is unable to find purchase on the hem because his hands keep sweeping over the tan expanse of Dean's skin with wonder. "Dean, Dean, Dean." The words fall like a benediction from his lips, and his aptitude for speech leaves him.

Dean fares a little better and is able to have the both of them lying, panting and nude against each other without too many additional mishaps. Castiel's fingers trace over all of Dean's scars, feeling the pucker of his skin. Dean shivers as if bracing for a heavy storm, and Castiel leans down to breathe strength into him.

When he enters Dean, it is indescribable. He can only whisper words of worship and love and affection and pure sentiment rolls off him in such waves that he feels some of the fears that bind Dean loosen. He can sense the insidious concern that wraps around Dean's very core that he is unworthy of love start to waver under the force of the feeling that is pouring down from Castiel.

So while they move in bed together, limbs tangled, Castiel loses himself to the marvel that is Dean Winchester. Pulling Castiel close to him, Dean's arms wrap around Castiel's back as he shakes in the same unsteady rhythm of Castiel's thrusts. Dean coos words of encouragement that sound sweeter than any praise Castiel has previously heard.

Dean treats him with a tenderness that belies the hunter's own sentiments. Sounds press from Castiel's mouth unbidden as he murmurs words of reverence in all the tongues known to him and some even from beyond his awareness. 

In a quiet moment while Castiel stops to collect his breath and reposition himself, Dean smiles warmly at him. It is this soft unconscious exhale that Dean makes, a nearly inaudible sound of such contentment that escapes from Dean's lips, that is his undoing.

An unhinging that wrenches away from him forcibly when he loses himself, closing his eyes. With his senses narrowed, Castiel focuses on the sounds of Dean as he too falls apart. He feels Dean keening desperately against his throat. And their love feels like a roaring fire in the dead of winter - a passionate and unpredictable force in itself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Sorry if there are errors. Un-beta'ed because my muse jumped me at 1a and was like, you must write to satisfy your Destiel feels! Also sorry to Sam who got trapped outside because of sexy time. haha :| sad moose.


End file.
